


Can Do

by popfly



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, hockey gear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick has the best ideas, and Jonny has a hard time (really) saying no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tourdefierce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/gifts).



> Did you know that some hockey players call their jock straps "the can"? I did not, until I watched a video tutorial on putting on hockey gear. Very informative.
> 
> Anyway. Ask and ye shall receive, at least if you're Emily and your brain is mush from interview prep. I tried to tick off as many things from your wishlist as possible.
> 
> Thanks to Tazer's thighs for being so inspiring.
> 
> Unbeta'd because I wanted to get this up (heh) for her ASAP. Feel free to point out errors in the comments, I won't be offended I promise.

Patrick doesn’t know where his brilliant ideas come from, but he likes to get them out into open air as soon as they pop into his head. Jonny’s pretty used to it by now, to the things Patrick blurts while they’re playing videogames or brushing their teeth together or fucking around in bed.

The result is usually one of two things, though Jonny still surprises Patrick from time to time. Reaction number one is Jonny saying, “What the fuck, no,” complete with Dead-Eye Stare™. Reaction number two is Jonny saying, “What the fuck, no,” complete with Dead-Eye Stare™, then going quiet while he thinks about it, and two days later doing whatever it is Patrick had suggested in the first place.

Patrick loves both reactions, because Jonny’s creepy black hole eyes thing delights Patrick to no end.

This one gets an odd reaction though. This time, when Patrick gets a flash of an image in his head that he can’t let go, and opens his mouth to describe it to Jonny, Jonny goes red so fast Patrick’s surprised he doesn’t pass out from too much blood to the brain or something.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell Patrick, “What the fuck, no,” but all that comes out is this weird wheezy breath, and Patrick reaches out to thump him on the back.

“Are you choking on your own spit or something, dude?”

Jonny shakes his head, wheezes a little more. Patrick is actually concerned, he could be dying, hyperventilating or having a stroke or something. He gets Jonny a glass of water, brings it back into the living room and puts it in Jonny’s hand.

“You want,” Jonny says, and Patrick rubs the heel of his hand between Jonny’s shoulder blades. “Me to do what?”

Patrick frowns. If his reaction was to Patrick’s suggestion - that’s a little extreme. “It’s not that weird, man, I bet people do it all the time. I bet Sharpy does it for Abby.”

Jonny’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “Really not something I want to be thinking about.”

“Fine,” Patrick says, huffy, and reaches for his XBox controller. “Don’t fulfill my sexual fantasies, see if I care.”

 

After that whole debacle, imagine his surprise when he lets himself into Jonny’s condo two days later, bag full of takeout in his hand, to find Jonny bareassed on the couch, wearing nothing but his shinpads, socks, and garters.

Patrick drops the food, because of course he does, and his mouth falls open. He scrambles to shove the door shut behind him, and squawks, “What if one of your neighbors had been walking by? What if I was, like, your _mom_ or something?”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Patrick, I knew you were coming over. You texted me from the restaurant when you picked up the food. Which is now ruined, thanks to you. Soft hands, my ass.”

“Yeah, well, if you thought we were going to calmly sit on your couch and eat soba noodles while you’re - “ Patrick breaks off, and waves a hand at Jonny’s everything, because he feels like that’s enough to sum it up.

Jonny’s thighs are basically obscene on a regular day - thick, bulging with muscle. Gleaming and huge, they’re Patrick’s favorite part of Jonny to hang onto when they’re fucking. Leaving marks with his nails or bruises with the pads of his fingers, marking up the oddly hairless surface any way he can. He loves them. And the way they look bare under the garters, white stripes on his tan skin above the red of his socks …

Patrick palms himself through his jeans, licks his lips.

Jonny smirks, because he’s a douche, and lets his legs fall open a little wider. Patrick’s between them in an instant, dropping to his knees so hard he’s sure the downstairs neighbors will hear. It hurt, but he couldn’t care less.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and slides his hands up over Jonny’s shinpads, fingertips skimming inch by inch towards bare skin. He plucks at one of the garters, looks up at Jonny through his eyelashes. “You look really fucking hot.”

Jonny’s stomach is jumping above his belt, and below it he’s hard as a rock, cock bobbing a little as he breathes hard. “I thought I’d look silly, but the look on your face,” he says, and Patrick has to lower his eyes, lean forward to press his nose in the crease of Jonny’s hip, mouth at the cotton strip of the garter and the skin underneath.

He rubs his hands up and down Jonny’s legs again, over the bumps of his pads, and chuckles, a little breathless, in Jonny’s lap. “Why are you wearing your shinpads?”

Jonny doesn’t answer right away, but the shift of his body tells Patrick he’s shrugging. “Tried the socks without them and they were like flapping around. It felt weird.”

Patrick kind of gets that; it’s like putting your gear on in the wrong order and feeling out of place. He can’t imagine how Jonny must feel in only a few pieces of what he normally wears. He definitely deserves an epic blowjob. He moves his mouth over Jonny’s skin, ready to provide, but Jonny grabs his shoulders, pushes him back. He looks up, surprised, to see a glint in Jonny’s dark eyes that is so promising Patrick has to bite his lip against a groan.

“Thought of another reason to keep them on, while I was waiting,” Jonny says, and Patrick just blinks. Then Jonny stands, balls in Patrick’s face, and before Patrick can get his mouth on them Jonny is hauling him to his feet, fingers working open Patrick’s belt and fly and then shoving his jeans and boxers down. He pushes Patrick down onto the couch and then lowers himself between Patrick’s knees with a “see” sort of look that makes Patrick want to kiss him stupid.

“Very smart,” Patrick says instead, and gets a handful of Jonny’s hair. “Safety first.”

Jonny rolls his eyes, but leans forward to press his face to Patrick’s groin, nuzzling the patch of hair at the base of his cock and licking stripes up over his hipbones. Patrick watches, panting, as Jonny runs his tongue up the underside of Patrick’s dick and then sucks it down.

“Jonny.” His name comes out a three syllable groan, and Jonny gets his hand into the mix, circles the base of Patrick’s cock and pumps, meeting his lips with his fingers and hollowing his cheeks.

It’s over ridiculously fast, basically as soon as Patrick notices that Jonny’s working himself with his other hand, cock sliding red and wet out of his fist. The sight of that - Jonny on his knees in his garter belt jerking himself off, makes Patrick come so hard he thinks he might snap his spine arching towards Jonny’s mouth.

Jonny swallows nearly all of it, because he knows how much Patrick likes it, and then gets to his feet. He’s still working himself with his fist, and Patrick pulls him by the belt, hooking his fingers over it and pulling. Patrick wraps his hands around the backs of Jonny’s thighs, digs his fingers under the garters, and looks up over the swells of Jonny’s pecs, still panting from his own orgasm.

“You wanna come on me, Jonny? Dirty me up a little?” Patrick asks, and Jonny’s head drops forward, his body going rigid as he does just that, shooting over the tee shirt Patrick had never even taken off. He slumps forward, props his forearm on Patrick’s shoulder and his cheek on top of Patrick’s head.

“Wow,” Jonny says, and monotone or not Patrick can tell he’d enjoyed the shit out of that.

“Will you admit now that I have the best ideas ever?”

Jonny straightens up and puts his hands on his hips, just above the garter belt, cock softening between his legs. He should look ridiculous, but he still just looks fucking hot. He ignores Patrick’s question, because he’d probably break something if he actually said yes, but he’s not a liar so he won’t say no. Instead he says, “You should change your shirt.”

Patrick plucks at it, looks down at the streaks of come. “Yeah, probably should.”

He’ll end up in one of Jonny’s old tee shirts, because Jonny won’t let him bring his own clothes over. Patrick had been offended at first, but he realized soon enough it was because Jonny likes seeing Patrick in his clothes, and Patrick likes it too. He’ll change, Jonny’ll get dressed, and they’ll watch SportsCenter. They’ll have to order dinner since theirs is still in the bag on the floor, ruined.

And if Patrick has another (genius) idea later, Jonny’ll say, “What the fuck, no,” and then Patrick will only have to wait two more days until he gets what he wants.


End file.
